


Kinktober Day 16: Face Sitting w/Ransom Drysdale

by sweeterthanthis



Series: Kinktober 2020 [15]
Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face Sitting, Fucking, Humiliation, Mild Daddy Kink, Mommy Kink, Orgasm Denial, Reader is sassy as fuck, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthanthis/pseuds/sweeterthanthis
Summary: You teach Daddy a lesson.
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor)/You, Ransom Drysdale/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/You
Series: Kinktober 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134725
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Kinktober Day 16: Face Sitting w/Ransom Drysdale

“This is some bullshit, Y/N!” Ransom huffed, leaning back in his arm chair with his arms folded across his chest.

“Oh I don’t think it is.” you snarked, your legs stretched out in front of you, one crossed over the other. “Daddy gets to run around town like a dog with two dicks, and I’m supposed to just sit at home doing what? Embroidery?”

His eyes rolled dramatically, head lulling back against the armchair as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger in frustration.

“Baby, it’s been three weeks. You’re killing me here.”

You couldn’t say it hadn’t been satisfying; withholding all physical contact from him, teaching him a well-earned lesson. He never had been one to keep his dick in his pants, that was until you threatened to tell everyone the truth about what happened to Harlan and Fran.

Oh sure, he’d wanted to throttle you when you gave him the ultimatum. Keep his dick in his pants, or go to jail. Two impossible options for a man like Ransom Drysdale.

You’d given him a third option of course, a way to make his way back to your sweet little pussy. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t keen on the idea. Which was probably the understatement of the century.

“I’m not fucking doing it, Y/N. It’s not happening.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back in amusement, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you traced a ruby red fingernail up your thigh, playing with the hem of your dress teasingly.

“Fine by me. I’ve got that $250 vibrator you bought me for our anniversary, I’ll be peachy. Or I could have a little fun with the gardener.”

You waited until his gaze was on you, uncrossing your legs seductively, your heels digging into the carpet as you spread your thighs wide. His eyes practically bulged out of his head, unmoving from the apex of your thighs.

“Oops! Would you look at that?” You purred, looking down between your legs at your perfectly preened pussy. “I forgot to put on panties today.”

You could practically feel the animosity seeping from him, but his eyes, oh they betrayed him. Unable to tear himself away from the sight of you spread out before him, he whined. And you couldn’t help the smirk that twitched at the corner of your painted lips, revelling in every last second of the power you held over him.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

You held your hand out to him, signalling that you weren’t interested in hearing it. 

“You want this?” You asked, running a finger through your slick folds, bringing it to your lips to tease him. “You want a taste, daddy?”

His resolve slipped, sinking to his knees on the carpet in front of you he fucking crawled, the look on his face one of sheer desperation. Your leg outstretched, you planted the sole of your stiletto against his cheek, forcing his gaze away from you and keeping him at a torturous distance.

“Then you know what to do.”

You had to stifle a giggle when he snarled against the sole of your shoe, adjusting what looked to be a painfully hard bulge in his trousers.

“One of these days…”

“What? What’re you gonna do? You gonna kill me? Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve plotted somebody’s grim demise, would it?” A gentle reminder of the stakes behind this little game you were playing with him, the very reason you’d brought him to his knees in the first place.

Dragging your stiletto down the curve of his throat, you pressed it to his chest, forcing him to sit up on his haunches while he stared you down. His lip jutted out just slightly, making him look like a child who’d just been told they couldn’t have sweeties before dinner.

“Mommy’s in charge now, daddy. You got that?”

His cheeks flushed at the turnaround, eyes widening as he realised that you’d been deadly serious the whole time. You often gave in, let him get away with murder. Literally.

“I said, you got that?”

This was one battle he was going to lose, and he wouldn’t forget it in a hurry.

“Yes.” He mumbled, unable to tear his eyes away from the prize between your thighs.

“Yes, what?” You goaded, unable to stop yourself from pushing him just that little bit further.

If looks could kill, you’d have imploded on the spot. His nose scrunched up slightly, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he sucked in a composing breath through his nostrils.

You cocked an eyebrow at him then, tapping the foot that wasn’t planted up against his chest on the carpet in a show of growing impatience.

“Yes…” he cringed, visibly cringed, and you couldn’t help but feel like the most powerful woman on the planet; “yes, mommy.”

You couldn’t help the little snort that escaped you, composing yourself almost instantly in case you pushed him too far. You were desperate for him. Three weeks without his perfect, god-like cock had you practically climbing the walls. If he gave in now, god knows how long it’d be before you had him at your mercy again.

“Good boy.”

Standing up, hands on your hips and your head cocked to one side; you smiled at him. A sickeningly sweet smile that told him that he was in for it. He raked his eyes up your bare legs, his stare a mixture of hunger and trepidation.

“Lay down. On the floor.” You ordered nonchalantly, inspecting your fingernails for dramatic effect. He didn’t budge, simply looking at you with wide eyes; his mouth falling open in disbelief. “Are you deaf, baby? On the floor. Now.”

He wanted to throttle you; of that you were sure. But he did it none the less, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater and laying himself down on the plush carpet. He linked his fingers; hands resting on his chest and exhaled a breath of frustration.

Standing over him, heels planted either side of his head and your pussy in full view, you hitched up your dress, bringing it to sit around your waist.

“I bet you’ve missed this pussy, haven’t you?” You cooed, winding your hips seductively and crouching above him; his face so close to your core, you could feel his warm breath fanning your clit. “Pussy got your tongue, baby?”

Ransom lifted his head, unable to help himself as he tried to reach you with his mouth.

Pressing the tip of your index finger against his forehead, you pushed him back down, tutting at him in mock-disappointment.

“Did I give you permission to touch me? I don’t think I did.”

“Go fuck yourself.” He spat, rapidly losing composure as he shuffled beneath you.

“Careful daddy, if you don’t fix that attitude I just might.”

You sank down onto him them, heels planted on the floor, squatting on his face. The pathetic mewl he made when he buried his nose between your pussy lips had to have been the most delicious noise you’d ever heard.

His tongue darted out, lapping at your hole hungrily and running a languid stripe to your clit. Tugging the sensitive nub between his teeth, he sucked at it, sending a shiver throughout your body; your balance faltering just a touch as you wobbled slightly above him. His hands grabbed at your thighs, squeezing your flesh firmly.

Your reached down, fingers raking through his hair and gripping it at the root sharply. He hissed then, looking up at you with a look that simply said, ‘what the fuck’.

“Touch me again and see what happens.” You threatened, tugging his head up slightly as he gazed up at you, disbelieving of the switch in power. “Now, are you gonna be a good boy baby?”

You couldn’t believe when he simply nodded, laying his arms out by his sides, completely mesmerized by the vision of your drenched cunt squatting over him.

“That’s more like it.”

Sitting on his chest, your knees planted either side of his head, you thrust your hips forward; fingers still tangled in his hair as you ground yourself against his face. He sucked, nipped, and slurped at every bit of you he could find, ravenous after three weeks of neglect.

Your eyes rolled back just a little when his lips encased your clit, tongue darting back and forth and sucking simultaneously.

Tugging his head away once again, you sat back on his chest, his face glistening with your juices. You brushed the pad of your thumb along his swollen bottom lip, bringing it back up to your lips and suckling on it with a breathy moan.

He was trembling beneath you, compliant and completely speechless.

Ransom Drysdale.

Speechless.

“That was good, but I think you can do better.”

You sat on him then, the letting the weight of your body rest on his face while he worked you; his tongue sliding inside your tight hole, brushing kitten licks against your sensitive walls. You felt his teeth graze your clit, jolting forward; your palms splayed out above his head.

Keeping him there, suckling at you like you were his only life source, you rode him. Grinding your pussy back and forth, you wound your hips in slow circles, his face growing redder by the minute as he struggled to breathe.

“Good boy. That’s it. O-oh fuck, right there.”

He mumbled against your pussy, tapping his feet against the carpet to get your attention. You paid no mind, sitting back a little more and completely covering his nose and mouth. Throughout the struggle, not once did he stop feasting on you, his moans vibrating through your abdomen, fire growing in your belly.

Just as his breathing started to become shallow, you raised yourself up on your knees, Ransom gasping for breath and panting, his warmth breath making your cunt twitch with need.

“Say sorry to mommy, baby.”

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded, licking at his lips to savour the taste of you.

“Tell me you’re sorry for being a bad boy.” You urged, grinding down once again, his nose colliding with your clit, making you tremble above him.

Ransom went to sit forward then, brows knitted together like you’d just asked him to steal the Hope diamond.

“Ah, ah.” You teased, lifting yourself off him just enough to warn him. His head fell back against the carpet with a soft thud, teeth clenched together and jaw twitching in irritation.

Smothering him once again, you rode him harder this time. Thighs pressed against his head, you went for it, riding him as if you were perched on his cock. Oh that cock.

You felt yourself begin to fall, his eagerness to please you overriding his own principles. Quaking above him, you came apart, wetness rushing down your inner thighs, his face drenched with you.

“Fuck, you’re so good at that baby. But you still didn’t apologise, huh?” You sang, reaching behind you and palming his throbbing cock through his trousers.

“Shit, please baby…” he begged, thrusting his hips up off the floor, eager for any attention you were willing to give him.

You slid yourself back down his chest, his crisp white sweater covered in dewy droplets of your cum. You straddled him, unbuckling his belt slowly and teasing the outline of him, amused when he twitched against your fingertips.

“Say sorry.”

Ransom shook his head from side to side, clenching his eyes shut as he mumbled away to himself. He was wrecked. And you’d never loved him more.

You reached in, wrapping your hand around him and pulling him free from the restraints of his trousers. The tip of him was drenched in precum, swollen and achingly sensitive. Running your thumb over the head, you squeezed, his body tensing beneath you.

“Say sorry baby, and I’ll make you feel so good.” You cooed, both hands jerking at him torturously.

He whimpered, eyes rolling back into his head when you swept your tongue across his slit, and you knew you had him.

“Sorry…” he mumbled, his fists balled at his sides.

Lining yourself up against him, his cock nudging your clit, you swirled your hips. His back arched up in pleasure, and obscenities falling from his lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What was that?” You goaded, smirking down at him as he writhed beneath you desperately.

Lowering yourself down onto him, taking an inch or so into your fluttering pussy, you halted; eyes locking with his as you cocked your brow at him, letting him know you weren’t moving a muscle until he gave you what you wanted.

He was silent, physically unable to give in because he was such an arrogant mother fucker. But when you lifted yourself off him, his cock bobbing against the hem of his sweater, he sobbed. You’d pushed him to a point that nobody ever had, and you had to wonder if he hated himself for it.

“I’m sorry!” He cried, his voice echoing through the air. It was music to your ears, taking every inch of his cock as you sank down on to him. He couldn’t help but grip onto your ass as you rode him, and you couldn’t help but let him.

You bounced up and down, taking every little bit of pleasure you could and not giving a single thought to his own. Rolling your hips against him, his cock seated deep inside of you, you couldn’t help but giggle a little, taunting him further as his fingernails bit into the plump flesh of your ass.

You used him, fucked him stupid beyond all coherency. Took orgasm after orgasm from him, disallowing him to chase his own. Tears fell down his cheeks, and he looked so fucking beautiful. You wanted to etch the memory of his face, twisted with pleasure, into your brain forever.

“Do you wanna cum, baby? You’ve been such a good boy.”

“Please, fuck, please let me cum. I’ll be good, I swear.” 

He begged, over and over like a mantra, face still slick with your arousal and eyes tight shut. You felt him twitch inside of you, the makings of his own peak ebbing closer with each roll of your hips…

And you just couldn’t help yourself.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He snarled, sitting upright as you stood before him, tugging your dress back down over the curve of your ass and wiping at your thighs with his discarded scarf. 

Turning on your heel, you strutted towards the door, knees still weak from your own bone-wracking release. You left him sat there, a drenched, fucked-out, seething and unfulfilled mess.

“Just think…” you chuckled, unable to help yourself, “if you’d just apologised like I asked an hour ago, you’d be in a way better mood right now.”


End file.
